


Burgundy

by TangerineBoxes



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangerineBoxes/pseuds/TangerineBoxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bahorel and burgundy nail polish. That’s basically it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burgundy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBraveHobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBraveHobbit/gifts).



> For Joly, because they are the best.
> 
> (And because they started tweeting about Bahorel and nail polish and i had to, but mostly cos they are the best)

There were many things Bahorel was good at. He was a fantastic friend, an amazing fighter, a good listener, an eloquent speaker, a ridiculously good cook, and great with kids, among other.

But he was shit with nail polish.

He had gone to the drugstore to buy more supplies for his and Feuilly’s first aid kit, and as he reached for the cotton balls, he noticed a bottle of nail polish in the nearest shelf. It was an intense burgundy and, as he told Feuilly later, with a colour like that, it basically had his name written all over it. So he bought it, along with some nail polish remover and some of those manicure sticks, like the ones he saw his sister and his cousins use whenever they were painting one another’s nails, or testing nail polish colours on him. But actually painting his own nails proved quite a challenge. The nail polish got full of bubbles, and either he applied too much on one nail, or too little, and it got uneven and full of flaws. When he tried to clean up the corners the stick would slip and mess the whole nail up. And, most importantly, that fucking thing took forever to dry. He removed all of it and decided it would be better to spend his time making dinner, especially since it was almost time Feuilly got home. He was almost done with the food - pasta with white sauce and whatever else he could find on the fridge - when Feuilly arrived. The redhead mumbled a “g’night” and threw himself on the couch. Bahorel thought he was going to take a nap, but then the smell of Feuilly’s cigarettes reached him.

“Oh no, fuck you! You’re not falling asleep smoking! We’re not dealing with small fires tonight!” He yelled, laughing. That was his cunning plan of annoying his boyfriend out of sleepiness, because:

“The only time we had a small fire, you started it, jackass” Feuilly replied, walking towards the kitchen. He sighed, exhaling smoke around the cigarette on his lips “What should I do?”

“Would you be so kind as to set the table, please?” Feuilly could have sworn he saw Bahorel bat his lashes. “And afterwards, can you paint my nails?”

“Reddest red to ever red?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Gladly.” Feuilly answered with a smirk.

He was not thinking of how well that colour would look in his boyfriends’s hands, or how good those hands would look and feel on his back and other body parts. His mind did not wander like that. Not at all.

“Stop thinking about fucking me and set the table, please?”

Feuilly would not answer to that. He refused to answer to that. Especially with Bahorel looking at him in such a smug way. He just set the table, sat there, and finished his cigarette.

After dinner, Bahorel grabbed the drugstore’s plastic bag and tossed it near Feuilly. He took the nail polishing supplies out, then tossed it back at Bahorel. While he took the bag to the bathroom, probably to leave it by the first aid kit, Feuilly found the nail polish, opened it, and tested the colour on his own thumb nail. It would look really good on Bahorel.

“Come here” Feuilly said when Bahorel came back, pointing to the place on the couch right by his side. Bahorel sat down and placed his hands on Feuilly’s thigh. Feuilly took a cotton ball and soaked it on nail polish remover. There were still some traces of Bahorel’s previous attempts. Feuilly took his boyfriend’s hands, one at a time, and removed the bits of burgundy on his nails. After he was done, he asked Bahorel to move.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m better at doing this when it’s on my own nails, so move your hands so i can sit in your lap so i have a better angle. Now, paws away and behave.” Bahorel put his hands up in a mocking surrender while Feuilly got up and sit on his lap. They could joke about how easily they could turn this into something sexual, but they actually did this a lot. Feuilly was skinny and tall, but not nearly as tall as Bahorel, and would often climb onto his lap, usually claiming what he would call “health reasons”, which Bahorel would translate as “you’re a warm and cuddly armchair and i have no body heat of my own so i’m cold. Now cuddle me, you fucker”.

Feuilly sat himself sideways on Bahorel’s lap with his knees close to his body. He placed is boyfriend’s hand over his knees, took the nail polish and started painting. With a few precise strokes, he finished one hand, fixed the corners, and moved on to the next, but not before threatening Bahorel about moving his hands and fucking up his nails before they were dry. Bahorel scoffed and placed his hand over one of Feuilly’s shoulders, just over the words tattoed there. Bahorel looked up to his boyfriend’s face. He looked very concentrated, like Bahorel had seen so many times, usually when he was writing. His eyebrows close together, the tip of his tongue resting on the corner of his upper lip, and he was breathing slowly, as if the movement of his own chest was a distraction him from what he was doing.

Ring finger, little finger, fix the corners and he was done.

He closed the bottle and tried to get up to put it away, but Bahorel put his arms around him - careful not to smudge the nail polish - and rested his head on the crook of Feuilly’s neck. Feuilly sighed, threw the small bottle on the other side of the couch, and adjusted himself better on his boyfriends arms. When Bahorel noticed Feuilly was not getting up, he stretched his arms in front of them, so they could admire Feuilly’s work.

“Burgundy looks good on you.” Feuilly declared. “Now let me get the remote, we’re going to watch our whole netflix queue if we have to, but you’re gonna stay still and not move your hands until these are perfectly dry.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on http://tangerineboxes.tumblr.com


End file.
